


How Would You Feel

by F1DEL1US



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015-2016 NHL Season, 2016-2017 NHL Season, First Goal, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Stickhandling 101
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F1DEL1US/pseuds/F1DEL1US
Summary: Freddie gives up a goal to Brownie the first time they go head to head. Turns out, Brownie gave something up that night too.





	1. How would you feel

**Author's Note:**

> That summary makes it sound like bad porn. But it's not...porn, that is. I'll let you be the judge of if it's bad or not. 
> 
> Because Connor got his [first ever NHL goal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mS3TneIW3og) against Freddie. Because it feels too good to be true, and yet it isn't. Because I have too many goddamn feels when it comes to these two. 
> 
> As always, thanks to M ([noseriouslythisis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/noseriouslythisis/pseuds/noseriouslythisis)), my wonderful beta and friend. Without her, none of my many ideas would get written. Thanks to the Leafs GC for keeping the inspiration going.
> 
> Chapter titles from Ed Sheeran's song of the same name.

_Game 73, 3rd Period - 4:30_

 

The crowd is dead silent, the sound of skates and sticks on ice the only noise in the arena. Not that he could blame them, they had just lost a 4 - 1 lead, _again_ . He had been in those stands not too long ago, cheering on his home team, or rather _cursing them out_ might be a more accurate description. So yeah, he understands. But it doesn’t make it suck any less though.

 

“Naz, your line’s up,” he hears Babs say, and focuses.

 

Well, in addition to cursing, he had also cockily thought he could do a better job if only he were on the ice, hadn’t he? If there was ever a time to deliver on that...

 

Clearing his head of his wayward thoughts, he jumps over the bench and rushes into the offensive zone, planting himself next to the net and watching the puck battle behind the net as if his life depended on it. It almost gets cleared out, but he sticks to his position, and keeps his eyes on it, because he’s not letting them lose this game, _goddammit._

 

His stubbornness is rewarded with a pass right onto his tape, and... _honestly_ , the rest of it is a bit of a blur.

 

It takes him a second, and the roar of the previously silent crowd, for him to realize that he scored. And not a second too soon either because as soon as he starts celebrating, he gets bumped into the boards by his screaming teammates, excited that he had gotten his first NHL goal, _in Toronto_ , playing for his _childhood team_.

 

And if you asked him later, he couldn’t tell you why he did it. Maybe he wanted to remember this moment, remember the first NHL goalie he scored against, or maybe it was none of those things, but when he glances towards the net, he finds a pair of laser focused eyes staring straight at him.

 

\-----

 

That look isn’t what he remembers most about the night he got his first NHL goal. _It isn’t._

 

\-----

 

Babs chews them out, of course he does. They lost a 4 - 1 lead, and _almost_ lost the game. He does, however, run into the coach again when he’s ready to leave and gets a pat on the back and a “Good job, Brownie,” for his effort. He knows it’ll all be forgotten soon enough though. That’s the thing he likes most about playing this game, he thinks, be it a victory or a mistake, it’ll all be forgotten by the next game. It’s one of the first things you are taught when you start playing professionally, to start with a clean slate, to handle each game like it was their first _and_ their last.

 

He gets stopped a few more times as he’s walking through the arena, and before he knows it, all his friends had cleared out leaving him behind. A text alerts him to where they are headed for his first goal celebration. Shaking his head, because _some friends they are_ , he’s about to head to the parking garage when he runs into what feels like a brick wall.

 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t lookin....” he starts saying, but stops mid-sentence when he sees who it is. “Hey...um, hi.”

 

Freddie, he thinks that’s his name, doesn’t acknowledge the apology or the greeting, and continues to stare at him and... _wow, he’s a brick wall both physically and emotionally._ Connor cannot figure out a single _thing_ about him, and it makes him feel out of his element.

 

Maybe that’s why the next words out of his mouth are, “That was a good game,” and _my god, can someone die of spontaneous embarrassment?_

 

“Andy! You coming?” he hears someone yell, and he could have kissed that guy he was so relieved.

 

Freddie still doesn’t speak for a minute, and Connor can almost feel the next dumb thing about to spill out of his mouth, but thankfully, it’s halted by...

 

“Congrats on the goal,” Freddie says, and wait...is that a _smirk_ on his face? And is he imagining the sudden softness in his face?

 

Before he can figure out the answer to that question, or even thank him for the well wishes, Freddie’s already turned around and walking out of the arena.

 

\-----

 

Connor doesn’t think about that moment as he’s about to fall asleep that night. _He doesn’t._

 

_\-----_


	2. If I told you I loved you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because being in love with a certain ginger really isn't ideal for Brownie. But then again, when did love care for convenience?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, once again, to M for beta-ing and brainstorming with me. 
> 
> Chapter title, once again, taken from Ed Sheeran's song "How would you feel". I have a type, clearly, haha.

The next time Connor sees Freddie, it’s not in person. It’s an off-day and he’s browsing through the channels, which...he doesn’t even know why he bothers anymore, he always ends up on one hockey game or another and this time is no different. 

 

And when he notices it’s Anaheim playing against Washington, he tries to tell himself that it’s just like any other game, just background noise. But then the camera pans to the Anaheim net and any hope of pretense flies right out the window, because it’s  _ Freddie _ in the goal and there hasn’t been a single night in the past two weeks when he had gone to sleep without thinking of that tiny smirk that had slowly taken over his face when he had congratulated him. 

 

Freddie’s mesmerizing. Heart racing at the sight of him, Connor admires the grace with which he moves. Even without their best trio, the Caps are a hell of an offensive team to deal with, but Freddie doesn’t seem to notice or care. 

 

God bless the cameraman who kept panning over to Freddie everytime there was a break in the game, and damn if he couldn’t feel the intensity of his gaze all the way through the television screen. Outside of being on the ice himself, he didn’t think there was ever a time when he felt so involved in a game before, right down to the involuntary cheer he let out when the game ended with a shutout from Freddie. 

 

The excitement and cheerfulness came to an abrupt halt when the stream cut off to a football game, however. 

 

_ No, no, no. _

 

His eyes fall on the laptop sitting on the coffee table, and he  _ couldn’t possibly, _ could he?

 

_ But that smirk... _

 

_ Fuck it. _

 

Opening up his browser, he hesitates for one more moment before typing in ‘Frederik Andersen’ into the search box. 

 

\-----

 

It doesn’t become a ritual to look up Freddie’s videos every time he’s in a bad mood.  _ It doesn’t _ .

 

\-----

 

When he hears the news that changes his life, even without the hindsight of just _ how much _ , he’s hanging out with some of his teammates. The guys who live closer to the GTA had decided to train together during the off-season. It happens as they are having lunch after a particularly brutal workout.  

 

“Holy shit, we got Andersen,” Naz says, scrolling through his phone, presumably Twitter. 

 

Connor’s head snaps up because... _ wait, what? _

 

“Wait, who?” Mitch asks because that last name is more common in the NHL than one would think. 

 

“Frederik Andersen, the goalie for the Ducks? Well...the goalie for the Leafs now, I guess,” Naz says in reply, and  _ is this what it feels like to have a heart attack? _

 

“Cool, how are his stats?” he hears someone ask, but can’t hear the reply because of the blood rushing through his skull. 

 

_ He must be dreaming, right? Right!? _

 

_ Freddie? Here? In Toronto? Potentially his teammate? It couldn’t be, could it? _

 

“Brownie?...Connor!” Bozie shouts, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You okay? You look a bit pale.”

 

Connor is the farthest thing from okay at the moment, but he nods and says, “Yeah...I’m fine. I just...I might be coming down with something.”

 

_ Fine? Fine!? He was not fine.  _

 

_ He was fucked. So, so fucked.  _

 

\-----

 

He tries to stay away from stalking his future goalie.  _ He does. _

 

_ \----- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love for this story so far. My writing life force is aided greatly by kudos and comments. Don't forget to leave some behind! <3


	3. It's just something that I want to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Brownie wouldn't know self preservation if it smacked him right in the face.

When he finally sees Freddie, after weeks of anticipation, he realizes he was nowhere near ready for it. They had been using the training facility at the ACC, and were piling into the locker room for their post-workout showers when it happens.

 

“Guys, I’d like you all to meet Freddie,” Shanahan says, walking into the locker-room with Freddie in tow. “He’s here a bit early to scope out places to live and all that. I assume you can take it from here?”

 

Mo’s the first one to greet Freddie, giving Connor a few minutes to gather himself.

 

The first thing he notices is just how pretty Freddie looks in person. Neither his memory nor the internet have come close to doing him justice. The second thing he notices is that there Freddie is, looking like a million bucks for all intents and purposes, and here he is, reeking and absolutely wrecked after a two hour workout.

 

_Ground? Please swallow me up?_

 

“Hey there, Connor, right?” Freddie asks once he reaches him, extending a hand out for him to shake, and Connor can feel the words about to spill out of his mouth, can register the horror taking over his mind, can absolutely feel the stupidity of the act he’s about to commit, but as usual, cannot stop any of it as he replies, “Yes, surprised you don’t seem sure of my name seeing as I got my first goal against you.”

 

_Did I...no, no, not even I can be this....no!_

 

Someone whistles and Connor can feel the blush taking over his face as he pulls his hand away, and averts his gaze. But when he hears a quiet chuckle, he’s helpless but to glance up at Freddie, and _wow_.

 

_And he thought watching Freddie smile in videos was bad enough._

 

“You’re right,” Freddie smirks. “It won’t happen again.”

 

Connor’s about to apologize because he can feel the good old canadian guilt choking the words out of him, but before he can do so, Freddie continues, “The scoring, I mean.”

 

There’s more whistles and laughter, but Connor doesn’t care because Freddie’s smiling at him with the same soft expression he _thought_ he had imagined all those nights ago, and well...

 

_Had he thought he was fucked before? Well, Connor, buddy, I’ve got news for you._

 

\-----

 

He doesn’t keep stealing glances at his goalie. _He does not._

 

\-----

 

Someone ( _Naz_ ) has the bright idea to go out to dinner together. Bonding with their goalie, he calls it, and Mo, the undeclared Captain, and the young dad of the team decides it’s a great idea. So there they are, at a steakhouse because they are exactly as predictable as everyone thinks they are.

 

“Didn’t think you’d be here so soon,” Mo says, once the waiter takes all of their orders and leaves. At his question, everyone’s attention shifts to the man in question, and because his luck is what it is, Connor was sitting right next to Freddie, and as such in their direct line of vision.

 

_Why me?_

 

“With the Olympic qualifiers and World Cup, I figured I should get here early and settle down,” Freddie replies, and Connor thinks that might have been the longest sentence he said since they met him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mo says sincerely, and Freddie just raises an eyebrow in reply.

 

_Fuck, why is that so hot?_

 

“You know, because we will kick your ass,” Mo replies cheerily and Freddie just smirks, _and honestly God, if you could just murder me right now, please?_

 

But apparently someone up there was having too much fun at his expense because in the next moment the conversation moves on to different things, and Freddie decides he absolutely needs to take a sip of his water, the unintended result of which is that Connor’s gaze moves to Freddie’s lips and _stays there_.

 

It is not until the glass of water is moved away and the too-familiar smirk returns to Freddie’s lips that Connor notices he got caught.

 

He swallows, and sees the smirk fall off Freddie’s face as his attention moves to his throat.

 

Connor thinks he’s about to burst into flames right in the middle of the overcrowded restaurant, but is saved by... _someone_...calling Freddie’s name, thereby rescuing him from an untimely death.

 

“Need any help with apartment hunting?” Jake asks before cutting into his steak and proceeding to chew with his mouth open because he was actually raised by wolves, not the nice couple that Jake passes off as his parents.

 

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’ve been looking some but Toronto’s a tough market,” Freddie replies, smiling.

 

Maybe it’s the smile, or the soft voice, or Connor’s absolute insanity when it comes to the goalie in question, but before he can think the consequences through, he finds himself saying, “There’s a vacancy in my building. I can set up an appointment for you to come see it, if you’d like?”

 

_Buy some duct tape and tape your goddamn mouth shut, you idiot!_

 

\-----

 

The thought of Freddie being an elevator ride away does not thrill him. _It absolutely does not._

 

\-----


	4. I'll be taking my time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Brownie can't catch a break. At all.

When Freddie sees the apartment in his building and basically falls in love with it on first sight, Connor doesn’t know if he should thank or curse out the gods above. On one hand, Freddie will only be a few minutes away, on the other,  _ Freddie will only be a few minutes away.  _

 

By this point it was fairly well established, at least in his own mind, that he has  _ zero _ chill when it comes to Freddie. So he needs to figure out a new strategy to make sure he isn’t caught ogling their goalie, because he absolutely does. And the brilliant idea he comes up with is to befriend him. Because no matter how perfect Freddie seems in theory, he’s only human, and humans are flawed. 

 

Except, as his luck would have it, Freddie is as close to perfect as one can get. Oh, they disagree on most things (Freddie is  _ horrified _ when Connor says he hasn’t seen Parks and Rec and insists they remedy the situation immediately. Connor threatens to unfriend him when Freddie mentions he finds Timmie’s absolutely tasteless.  _ Who says unfriend in real life, Connor? _ ), but he’s still perfect. 

 

_ And Connor is still very much fucked.  _

 

\-----

 

It doesn’t mean anything that Connor misses Freddie to hell and back when he leaves for Olympic tryouts.  _ It doesn’t. _

 

\-----

 

He thinks he can finally understand how his mom feels now. It’s only been an hour since Freddie got pulled from the tryout game for Denmark, and yet it feels like forever. If he was miserable before, he is absolutely insufferable now. He has already called everyone on the team, inquiring if they knew anything about...well, anything. Most of them had been surprised to learn of the injury in the first place and were absolutely useless. He is just about to circle through them all again when his phone rings, startling him into almost dropping it. 

 

“Hello?” he answers impatiently, without looking at the called ID, wanting to get back to his mission of finding out how Freddie is doing. 

 

There’s a second of silence before he heard Freddie’s voice say, “Hey Connor.”

 

“Oh my god. Freddie. How are you? I heard about the injury. I was going to call but I didn’t have your number and I wasn’t sure if you’d have your phone on you anyway. I didn’t see it. Is it bad? Stupid Canadian TV doesn’t stream the tryouts, so I didn’t know how...”

 

“ _ Connor _ ,” Freddie interrupts, and is that a note of amusement in his tone? “It’s okay.  _ I’m _ okay.”

 

Connor sags in relief. 

 

“How bad is it?” Connor asks, dreading the answer.

 

“It’s my shoulder. They say it’ll be 3 to 4 weeks,” Freddie replies, sighing. 

 

Four weeks. That means Olympic tryouts  _ and _ World Cup of Hockey. 

 

“Fuck,” Connor replies, because he knows how much Freddie had been looking forward to both. He took great pride in representing his country, and even though they had made a mockery of that in the World Cup, Freddie had been looking forward to proving everyone wrong about Team Europe and how they didn’t stand a chance. 

 

“Yeah,” there’s a moment’s silence before he continues, “I am coming home.”

 

\-----

 

Connor doesn’t think about what it means that he was the  _ only _ teammate Freddie called right away after his injury.  _ He doesn’t _ .

 

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned to a good friend Kerri, comments motivate me to kill you softly soon and often ;)


	5. Spending my life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Brownie doesn't know what's good for him. That's a lie. He knows. He just can't bring himself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Life got in the way. The next two chapters will be longer, I promise!

If they thought they were spending too much time together before Freddie’s injury, it is nothing compared to how they are  _ after _ Freddie returns from Belarus. The Leafs trainers are handling him with kid gloves, which means complete rest and supervised training only for the 3 to 4 weeks that he’s recovering. And even though Connor continues to train with the rest of the guys in the GTA, his new found freedom means he spends the rest of his time doing pretty much nothing at all. 

 

He introduces Freddie to Call of Duty (“It’ll ruin  _ my _ reputation if you are this bad at video games, Freddie!”), and Freddie continues to expand Connor’s knowledge in all things television. For a serious guy, Freddie is a fan of numerous comedy shows, and is surprised time and time again when Connor fails to be a fan of famous american shows (“It might have something to do with the fact that I’m  _ Canadian _ , Freddie.”)

 

Freddie makes breakfast, and Brownie bakes (How could he not with a name like that?), and they explore the city for lunch and dinner. And if more and more danish pastry recipes keep making their way into Connor’s oven, well...who can blame him? 

 

\-----

 

It’s not because he is looking for a repeat of the fond look Freddie gave him the first time Connor presented the baked Danish delicacies. _It’s not._

 

\-----

 

Freddie’s a coffee connoisseur, of course he is. He gets his coffee beans from Denmark on the regular (or the Brotherhood of Travelling Coffee as Connor has taken to calling it. It’s an understanding between the Swedes and the Danes of the NHL to bring back coffee beans from home anytime they go back), and vocally and repeatedly makes his displeasure of  _ the mud water _ known to Connor (unrelatedly, Connor always makes a drive-through stop at Timmie’s on the way to the arena because infatuation or not, he’s  _ Canadian  _ and can also be a little shit when he wants to be). 

 

But  _ because _ he is hopelessly and irrevocably besotted with his goalie, he makes it his mission to find Freddie a piece of home in Toronto, which means hitting any and all cafes Connor deems worthy of Freddie’s tastes. 

 

“Why do you always order an Espresso?” Connor asks, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the bitter concoction Freddie  _ chooses _ to consume. 

 

“It’s a good baseline. Like a Risotto,” Freddie replies. “Simple things are the easiest to mess up, you see.”

 

Connor hopes with his whole heart that they are not. Because this feels simple, whatever it is Freddie and he had built in the past couple of months. It feels like slipping into a cold pair of sheets after a long and tiring day. Comforting. And he knows it can’t last. Soon, there will be twenty-one other teammates and countless staff pulling their attentions in various direction. There will be constant reminders of why he can’t have what he wants, not least of all is the fact that Connor doesn’t know if any part of his crush is reciprocated. 

 

Maybe it’s not so simple, after all. 

 

\-----

 

If he were smart, he’d put some distance between them before season’s start.  _ Good thing he isn’t. _

 

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my Coffee! <3


	6. Falling deeper in love with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Brownie ever thought there was a slight chance he wasn't in love with Freddie, he was delusional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am The Worst for not posting for so long, but I finally got my ass in gear and we're almost at the end. It's even a longer-ish chapter to make up for the delay. I am writing the final chapter as we speak, and I promise I won't make you wait for an eternity again. If anyone's still reading that is, lol.

As expected, the season comes at them fast. Before they know it, it’s September and the World Cup of Hockey is here, and with it, so are most of their teammates, whoever is left anyway. It’s decided that they would go to the games so they could scope out the new savior of the Leafs ( _ Yeah, nice try, Lou _ ) and support their teammates, in exactly that order. Never say hockey players don’t have their priorities straight. 

 

Connor tries not to resent the fact that the rest of the team is cutting into his alone time with Freddie, but it is probably for the best anyway. The boundaries that were blurred to begin with were threatening to be erased completely. 

 

And, as expected, it doesn’t help one tiny bit, unless you count Freddie’s quiet commentary on other goalies’ performance turning him on  _ helping _ . 

 

“Hey, kid’s got some spunk at least!” Jake comments after they watch Auston check Polak into the boards for his hit on McDavid. Something could be said for making sure you are not also checking your own teammate in the process, but he is young yet. 

 

“Could you sound any more like a grandfather?” Zach chirps.

 

“Respect your elders, child,” comes the reply and Connor tunes them out because right at that moment one of the goalies makes a save that makes Freddie smile and who cares what happens to the rest of the world?

 

They go to dinner with Auston and Mo after the game, team bonding Naz calls it, because it’s  _ always _ Naz, and Freddie lights up when he talks about California with Auston. Connor can tell that he misses the city, the sun and the beaches, and feels a twinge of sadness. But when Freddie catches his eyes and smiles, a secret little thing, and says, “But I think I am falling in love with Toronto too,” Connor’s afraid his heart will explode. 

 

\-----

 

He hopes training camp would put an end to the ill-advised infatuation.  _ It does not _ .

 

\-----

 

Connor blames it on being addled by Freddie’s constant presence around him. Because there is nothing else that would explain why he thought his crush, if it can even be called that anymore, would get better once they started playing hockey. Hockey, which has always been his first love (and an instant turn on), and Freddie, who plays said hockey, and is quickly threatening to overtake that mantle.

 

He was so utterly and incredibly screwed. _ And not even in the fun way.  _

 

Training camp brings with it the rest of their teammates, and Freddie in his full gear, god help him. 

 

He plays like a beast, partly because he is making this team come hell or high water, and partly because he is showing off for Freddie, not that he would admit it in a million years. 

 

“Holy fuck, Brownie, you’re going to kill me,” Jake huffs, trying to steal the puck from him. Connor dekes his way past him and snipes it to the top left corner of the goal, and gets it past Freddie. 

 

And head-over-heels or not, a shot like that deserves the smirk that takes over his life. But in the next moment, when Freddie removes his helmet for a water break and winks at him, he feels like he missed the net by 5 feet instead. 

 

“Remember, Brownie, Freddie’s  _ your _ goalie now. Don’t go scoring on him,” Zach laughs, coming up to tap him on the helmet.  

 

_ My goalie.  _ Right. 

 

\-----

 

That wink doesn’t haunt him.  _ It doesn’t. _

 

\-----

 

They get into a routine, Freddie and him. Connor always shoots to the top left corner during warm ups, and Freddie always lets him. Their teammates tease them for always being attached at the hip, but all the talk about unobservant hockey boys didn’t come from nowhere, and none of them realize exactly how much of an understatement that is, for which Connor is thankful. 

 

The morning of their first preseason game, Connor catches Freddie looking at his phone and smiling as he types something in, and tries to tamp down the irrational twinge of envy he feels. Freddie can have other friends, or other... _ whoever _ , and it is none of his business. 

 

Naz has no such concerns, however, and plucks the phone right out of Freddie’s hands, yelling, “Oooooh, is it your secret girlfriend? What’d she say that has you smiling like that?”

 

“Nazem, I swear to god...” Freddie starts to say, towering over Naz, but is interrupted. 

 

“It’s your birthday!?” Naz yells, glaring at Freddie as if he personally offended him. 

 

Connor’s head whips up at that.  _ It was Freddie’s birthday? How had he missed that? _

 

“Did no one teach you about personal boundaries?  _ Manners? _ ” Freddie asks in lieu of answering Naz’s question. 

 

Naz ignores him. 

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us. I am hurt, Frederik. Heartbroken. Devastated,” Naz says, clutching his heart dramatically. 

 

“Drama queen,” Freddie says, laughing at Naz’s antics. 

 

“This calls for a party!” Willy declares, as if he ever needed an excuse to party. 

 

“No, no it does not. Did everyone forget we had a game tonight? Our  _ first? _ ” Freddie prompts, trying to get out of whatever plans they were making because it is guaranteed trouble. 

 

“Irrelevant! We’re going out after. Just because  _ you _ are old doesn’t mean the rest of us younguns can’t enjoy ourselves,” Naz says.

 

“You are  _ one _ year younger than me,” Freddie deadpans. 

 

But any further discussion is halted by the arrival of their coach.

 

\-----

 

Connor doesn’t bribe the rest of his teammates to rethink their plans.  _ Of course he doesn’t _ .

 

\-----

 

“What did you have to promise them to convince them for a dinner instead of a party?” Freddie asks, on their way back home. It made sense to catch a ride together, seeing as how both of them live in the same building. Or it had, until Connor caught sight of Freddie dressed in a white button down, in a car that looked like sin. He was  _ not _ going to survive this. 

 

It takes a minute for him to remember how speaking works. 

 

“Oh, nothing much,” Connor glosses over it. Drinks on him during the next outing wasn’t really too much to promise anyway. 

 

Freddie smiles, “Well, thanks.”

 

“Of course. It’s  _ your _ birthday, we should do something you enjoyed,” Connor replies, looking away from Freddie to save whatever is left of his sanity. 

 

Freddie pulls into the garage and says, “Then this is a perfect way to end the night.”

 

Connor’s head snaps back so fast, he’s afraid he gave himself a whiplash, but the way Freddie is looking at him just then, it would have been worth it anyway. 

 

The moment is interrupted by a car pulling into the spot next to them, and Connor clears his throat and tries to remember what he wanted to say to Freddie, “I...I um...have something for you? In my apartment?”

 

The minute he says it, Connor realizes how suggestive that sounds and feels his face flush hot. 

 

“Your birthday gift, I mean. It’s upstairs. In my apartment. It was big, so I didn’t want to...”  _ Oh my god, Connor, shut the fuck up. _

 

Freddie places a hand on his thigh and Connor feels his brain short circuit. 

 

“Of course. You wanna head up now?” Freddie says, thankfully rescuing Connor from having to speak again because he is no longer sure he is capable of that simple skill. 

 

\-----

 

Connor tries not to lose his mind on the elevator ride over.  _ He doesn’t fully succeed.  _

 

\-----

 

“Here,” Connor says, bringing the present out from his bedroom cupboard where he had hidden it, thankfully, because it gives him a moment to pull himself together, as much as he can anyway before he makes even more of a fool of himself in front of Freddie. 

 

Freddie looks at the meticulously gift wrapped present for a second, before taking it off Connor’s arms. 

 

“You can...you can look at it now if you want,” Connor says, because he can’t take the anticipation for another second. 

 

Freddie smiles and tears into the present like a kid of Christmas morning, which warms Connor’s heart. However, his hands pause when he can see what it is, and he looks up at Connor, his expression unreadable, and any chill Connor might be pretending to have leaves him in a moment. 

 

“I know how disappointed you were that you couldn’t go home this summer? I just...I wanted you to have something that reminded you of home, I guess,” Connor shrugs, finally losing all courage and looking at his intertwined palms. It was a lego set of the Toronto skyline. It had seemed like a great idea when he saw it in the store’s window this morning, on his frantic trip to find a present, but in retrospect, it feels a bit childish. But he forges on regardless, because in for a penny, in for a pound and all that jazz, “And I wanted to remind you that Toronto can be your home too...if you wanted it to.”

 

He doesn’t look up, he  _ can’t _ , but Freddie places a hand on his own, and Connor doesn’t have a choice. 

 

“Thank you, Kære,” Freddie whispers, and even though Connor doesn’t understand what that means, Freddie’s smile is more than enough of an answer. 

 

\-----

 

He doesn’t obsessively try to google translate what Freddie said and fail.  _ He doesn’t _ .

 

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally caved and created a [tumblr](https://aspirantalchimiste.tumblr.com/)! And some mood boards/banners. Come hang out with me, I'd love to hear from you.


	7. So tell me that you love me too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor thinks at least Freddie has some semblance of chill, he's in for a surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it's done. Thanks to M (noseriouslythisis) again for the multiple brainstorming sessions, and gentle nudges to get the damn thing done, and K for sobbing at every chapter and validating my writing. Couldn't have done it without them.

It happens after the Kings game. 

 

The season starts, and they lose more than they win, but there is something in the air at the ACC that hasn’t been there for as long as Connor can remember: hope and excitement. They play with an abandon that can only be afforded by the limited expectations placed on the team, and it’s so much more fun than Connor could have ever imagined. 

 

But everything comes to a screeching halt after the Kings game. They lose 7 - 0 on home ice, and Freddie gets pulled halfway through the game, for the first time in his Leafs career, and Connor doesn’t know it’s possible to feel  _ this _ terrible. 

 

Babs doesn’t say anything to them after the game, only that he will see them the next day, and that’s even more terrifying than being chewed out. 

 

Freddie drives them back and they end up going up to his apartment without even discussing it, because the thought of being alone right now makes Connor’s skin crawl, and the thought of being  _ away _ from Freddie is not even conceivable, prudence be damned. 

 

They settle down on the couch, television on low for nothing better to do, and it’s a testament to Connor’s mental and physical exhaustion that when he realizes that he is leaning against Freddie maybe a bit too much to be strictly friendly, he doesn’t even consider moving. 

 

His eyes fall on the lego pieces spread out on the dining room table that hasn’t been used once for actual dining, to the best of his knowledge, and Connor feels something give in his heart. 

 

“I am sorry,” he whispers, not looking at Freddie, feeling like he  _ can’t _ . 

 

“For what?” Freddie asks, his voice gravelly from being unused since the game started. 

 

“I...we...should have done better. We let you down,” he murmurs. 

 

He jostles when Freddie moves, and is about to ask what’s wrong, but any thoughts of speaking leave when Freddie wraps an arm around him and pulls him close. He feels a whisper of a kiss on his hair and looks up, and finds Freddie staring back at him. 

 

“I’m sorry too, Kære.”

 

If you asked him later, Connor couldn’t remember for the life of him who moved first, but their lips brush together, a whisper of a thing. He sees Freddie pull back a sliver and moves with him like a moth to a flame. Whatever is on his face must convey the answers to Freddie’s unasked question, because in the next moment they’re kissing again. 

 

Freddie caresses his cheeks, gentle, pulling him impossibly closer, and Connor twists so that he can wrap his arms around him, his fingers tangling in Freddie’s hair as he sighs into the kiss. 

 

\-----

 

This is not a bad idea, right? Of course it isn’t? 

 

\-----

 

It  _ is absolutely _ a bad idea. 

 

Connor wakes up blissfully, wrapped up in a warmth so comforting he wouldn’t mind never moving another inch ever again, but then his traitorous brain startles him awake with the memories of what had happened the night before.

 

_ He didn’t _ . 

 

He tries to remember the details of what happened, who leaned in first, what even led to the kiss in the first place, but his thoughts keep circling back to the utter bliss that is kissing Freddie, and that doesn’t help his predicament one bit. 

 

He’s not sure what the kiss meant, not sure he can take it  _ not _ meaning something, and isn’t even sure how he would go about figuring it out. 

 

“I can  _ hear _ you thinking,” Freddie murmurs, nuzzling into his neck. His voice is heavy with sleep, and Connor feels his heart clench with fondness. 

 

But he doesn’t know what to say, where to start, his thoughts a jumbled mess of  _ yes, finally _ and  _ what the fuck did you do _ , but he shouldn’t have worried. Not with Freddie. Never with Freddie, because he feels a soft kiss being pressed to his shoulder before Freddie says, “I never do anything I am not sure of, Connor. I’m all in.”

 

Thank god for Freddie’s obsession with buying impractically large furniture because he would have toppled both of them over with how quickly he turns in Freddie’s arms. 

 

“I...” he pauses, forgetting for a moment what he was going to say when he catches Freddie’s eyes.

 

“You?” Freddie prompts, smiling. 

 

“I’m all in too,” Connor says, returning the smile.

 

\-----

 

He doesn’t make a mess of Freddie’s kitchen.  _ He absolutely does not. _

 

\-----

 

Later,  _ much later, _ after Freddie had cleaned up his mess and made the best omelettes known to mankind ( _ Not exaggerating. Shut up.) _ , they lounge on Freddie’s couch, flicking through the channels on the television, when a thought occurs to Connor. 

 

_ Shit. He should, shouldn’t he? _

 

“Freddie?” Connor says, glancing up from his very comfortably draped position on Freddie’s chest. 

 

“Hmmm,” comes the non-committal reply. 

 

“I think I need to tell you something,” he continues in a small voice, and the tone catches Freddie’s attention. Suddenly, he finds himself the focus of the goalie stare, and it’s a lot on the best of days. 

 

“What is it, Connor? You can tell me anything, you know that,” Freddie reassures, when Connor hesitates. 

 

“Remember how we met last year?” he asks, stalling, and as expected, doesn’t receive a reply for that dumb question. “Well...I...might have...my interest might have been piqued? In you, I mean,” he rushes to finish. 

 

Freddie raises one perfect eyebrow at that statement, and  _ dammit if he isn’t going to learn that move as soon as possible. He needs all the skills he can amass if he was going to keep up with Freddie. _

 

“What I mean to say is, there is a  _ slight _ possibility that I might have followed your games for a bit after that?” And still there’s nothing from Freddie.  _ Right, goalie, brick wall. _ “And maybe a few interviews here and there? Some googling?”

 

He stops, because admitting to stalking is one thing but confessing to looking through tumblr for his pictures is  _ just not happening, honesty be damned _ .   

 

“At first it was just something to do, you know?” he says, looking at Freddie pleadingly. “And then it was summer, and I had way too much free time on my hand to worry about whether I’d make the team next season, if we’d have a good year, and...and I just...your videos were the only thing that’d distract me?” 

 

_ Why are you saying it like it’s a question, you idiot? _

 

“It became a thing before I consciously decided to make it a thing....and it’s really your own fault for being so fucking irresistible. I mean,  _ those shades _ ...were you trying to kill everyone? God, Freddie!” Now he’s on a full on rant, and he doesn’t think he could stop if his life depended on it,  _ which it kind of does because god, he could die of embarrassment right about now,  _ “And then you were here...and I...I stopped, or I tried to, but... _ fuck, I’m weak. _ ”

 

Freddie doesn’t say anything for a second, and he can  _ feel _ his heart trying to jump out of his chest.  _ Had he fucked up? Should he not have said anything? He knew it was a bad idea. He is going to come across like such a stalker, fuck... _

 

The sound of a loud, unrestrained laughter pulls him out of his own thoughts. He looks up to find Freddie’s head thrown back, eyes closed and a warm and hearty laugh filling the space around him. It warms something inside him, and he could feel himself relaxing as a small smile takes over his face.  _ If smirking Freddie gets his heart racing, a full-blown laughing Freddie is his undoing.  _

 

_ I love you _ , the thought comes unbidden to Connor’s mind, and as much as that should freak him out, he finds that when it comes to Freddie, nothing he ever does will be logical, and furthermore, he can’t find it in himself to care that it isn’t. 

 

Once his laughter subsides, Freddie extends a hand towards him and he goes to him like a moth to a flame. Wrapping him up in an embrace that never fails to make him feel safe from absolutely everything in the world, Freddie places a small kiss on his forehead, and Connor can’t help but melt into him. 

 

“Jeg elsker dig, min kære.”

 

He looks up from the hug, confusion lighting his face at Freddie’s words, but before he can get out his question, his lips are being captured in the sweetest of kisses, and well...who could blame him for losing himself in it?

 

\----- 

 

When Freddie teases him about  _ finally _ knowing how Connor clued into his love for Legos, he regrets ever opening his stupid mouth. No,  _ he really doesn’t _ .

 

\-----

 

Babs bag skates them because of course he does, and exhaustion isn’t a strong enough word to cover what Connor’s feeling at the moment, but if that was the price to pay to cuddle Freddie in his giant bed, then he is willing to pay it. 

 

_ (He really hopes it isn’t. Romantic declarations aside, he’s not sure his legs would survive another go.) _

 

“Isn’t it funny?” Connor asks, smiling. “I score my first goal against you,” Freddie huffs at this. “You end up being  _ my  _ goalie, and now here we are.”

 

“Hmmm,” Freddie hums, pulling Connor closer and kissing his forehead. 

 

“What made you choose Toronto?” he asks, because he knows the even as an RFA, Freddie had other offers, and he had always wondered what made Freddie pick  _ this _ team. 

 

“Well...let’s just say,” Freddie starts, and makes sure he catches Connor’s eyes before saying, “your interest wasn’t the only one that was piqued.”

 

Connor swears his heart stops for a second before going into overdrive. He pulls Freddie into a kiss, hoping it conveys everything his words cannot. Or maybe...

 

Pulling back, he says, “Jeg elsker også dig,” and he knows his pronunciation is all over the place, he’s not even sure Freddie understands what he said but if the look in Freddie’s eyes and the kiss he receives are any indication, Connor thinks he did  _ just fine _ .

 

\-----

 

Just fine doesn’t quite cover what that kiss leads to though.  _ Not even a little bit _ .

 

\----- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes and thoughts that didn't make it:  
> \- Did Freddie have other offers? I don't know, don't ask me. He had to sign with TOR right away, so I assume. But really, who knows. I just wanted ALL the romance.   
> \- Connor finds a danish bakery in Toronto and becomes fast friends with the baker. He's the unofficial translator for Brownie everytime Freddie drops a danish phrase on him. His friend can't understand what the fuck he's saying 90% of the time, but is willing to indulge him nonetheless.  
> \- Read "Don't Wake a Sleeping Goalie" if you want to know how the team found out. Basically, they're lucky they're alive.   
> \- I have many more ideas for the gingers, and M and I will singlehandedly (doublehandedly?) fill that tag come hell or high water  
> \- I have a [tumblr](https://aspirantalchimiste.tumblr.com/) now! I'd love it if you came and chatted with me. Especially about writing prompts, or inspirations. You never know what could trigger my itch to write.


End file.
